Sunhair
by Kamarile
Summary: The life of Ilyena Dalisar done in really short and strange vignettes. Hope you like it.
1. Part One

1  
Paraan Disen  
  
There are crystals in the sky above Paraan Disen. I know, because they cannot possibly be buildings, they are so lovely, and they glimmer like beads in the clouds' hair. I am all by myself because Mummy didn't take the sho-wing with me, she is too busy; and Daddy is watching little brother at home. Little brother waved his fatty hand bye-bye at me, and then my home was gone in a jet of steam and nitrogen. So now I am standing here looking up at the tower beads and not missing them at all, for I can only see the sky.  
  
Say it over and over again and it becomes a tongue-twister. Paraan Disen, Paraan Disen, Paraan Disen. Aes Sedai, Aes Sedai, Aes Sedai. I am here at Paraan Disen to become Aes Sedai; Paraan Disen Aes Sedai, Paraan Disen Aes Sedai, Paraan Disen Aes Sedai and it has a rhythm, a beat that makes me walk tripping over sideways and under the chora trees that make my heart glimmer like dew on the sum. I want to dance down the sidewalk, and part of me knows I must be crazy, but the other knows that everyone else here must have to dance too. So I run and I skip and I twirl and act not at all my age, but it doesn't matter anymore! Because it is finally true that I am going to be Aes Sedai and live in sparkling towers of jewels and beads and sail among the clouds for ever and ever!  
  
  
  
2  
Mierin  
  
I met a girl named Mierin and she is beautiful like a lake. She is fifteen and grown up, and she doesn't twirl under the chora trees because she isn't silly like me and has been here a year. Is a smart, smart girl and all the boys fall deep in love with her because she is so very pretty. Her eyes are blue and blue like mine, only it aches to look into hers because they are like leaping into an icy shower and staying there because it makes you so so clean. Is older and wiser and scorns the boys that I would drool at any day. Girls don't like Mierin, and she knows and scorns them too, because she wants to stay deep blue beautiful and not care what they think.  
  
I met Mierin last night at dinner because the only seat left was the one next to her on the girls' side of the hall. I knew who she was, of course, even the first day everyone knew that Mierin Eronaile (that's her last name, Eronaile, but it should be her first because it is a blue name like her) was the most beautiful girl in the school and the city and she doesn't like anyone. I flop down hard and nervous next to her, and she looks at me clear and cold like a slap. Are you new here? she says, and her voice is just as beautiful as the rest of her, which is unfair in a thousand and six ways.  
  
Yes, I say.  
  
Dammit, I didn't mean for that to stop the bloody conversation, she says in her voice too deep to be silver bells, but too lovely to be anything else. Even you think I'm a worthless piece of crud, and you've only been here a day.  
  
Oh no! I say. I think you're beautiful!  
  
No crap, says Mierin. I'm Mierin, what's your name?  
  
Ilyena, I say. Please, call me Enny.  
  
No, I won't, says Mierin. Ilyena is a good name.  
  
Why does it matter, I ask her, because I don't like my name. It sounds like cold dry glowbulbs.  
  
Because it does, says Mierin and she eats a leaf of salad. She chews with her mouth looking beautiful too, and talks with it open. When you're dead and buried in a few hundred years and your bones have dried to ash, all that is left is your name. If it's a lovely name, you will have been a lady. If it's a bitchy name, that's what you will be too. If it's plain, then it won't matter at all, because they'll forget you.  
  
That's not true, I say timidly. It is through the nature of man's deeds that he gains rememberance, and hence, immortality.  
  
Don't quote Giglat at me, Ilyena. It won't impress me.  
  
Well, you can do something great and earn a third name, I say.  
  
Maybe, says Mierin, but she doesn't mean it. She looks down at her salad and pokes at it, leaning down so her long black hair hides her face from everyone.  
  
But not before I see a tear drop frozen from her blue, blue eye.  
  
  
3  
Glass Sunsets  
  
My roommate, Lillen Moiral. She is a small city girl like me, and plain like bread. Her hair is like mice and she combs it, cuts it short and straight but dull; eyes brown like a tabletop and dry like her pale lips. Is thin, bony, lost, tired at the end of the day and flops into bed, thus, without looking at the sun set behind the glassy Colaam Daan. Is ordinary, a hard-working girl; has money, not much, has smarts bus isn't smart; is mousy and musty and spidery and brown.  
  
Lillen talks to me sometimes, but not much. SHe doesn't like me, I think, and I am sad because I don't know why. We aren't the same at all, and Lillen has few friends.  
  
I want to be your friend, Lillen Moiral from far away like me. I want to be the girl you come back to at night, bones sighing and head falling to your bony chest, to cry to when things are sad for you and you miss home and your mummy and your daddy and little baby who waves bye-bye, bye-bye as you fly into the clouds. I want us to giggle together and look at the cute boys together and know each other's thoughts, isn't that how roommates should be? Lillen, Lillen, please, why are you so quiet and sad? Do you hate me because I'm not nice enough? I'll be nicer, Lillen, please!  
  
And then she tells me about her dreams and I fall silent, and we both stare separate into the glass sunset.  
  
  
  
(There will be more if you want me to write more. I plan to have this go on for quite some time. Please, please PLEASE tell me what you think or my feelings will get hurt, and then my ego will be sad.:( So make me happy and RESPOND!!!!;))   
  
  
  
  
  



	2. Part Two

4  
Saidar  
  
  
I want to touch it, but Madra says not yet, that an Aes Sedai will come and teach me in a week or so, and I can't wait because I want to touch it. Mierin says that it is the most beautiful thing in the world, but that can't be true because Mierin is and nothing can be prettier for Mierin than when she opens wide the bathroom doors and sees Mierin in the mirror. Madra says that Mierin is trouble and stay away from her, but I have seen Madra look half-wicked at the boys and paint her lips red like a yellow apple, and glare at Mierin's that are heated coral without a brush. I like Mierin because I'd like her to be my friend, and I don't think she is a black heart girl like everyone says. She is blue, dark blue, and lovely and lovely and sad.  
  
I like Mierin.  
  
That's because she has the spark too, Enny, says Madra, who is also a big girl and channels. You can feel the spark in someone else, and the ability to channel if they know how.  
  
No it isn't, you stupid, says Kammie Nindar. She can't channel yet, so she can't tell, you moron. Kammie Nindar is a lace balloon girl, is Madra's friend and pink as a cheek.  
  
You're the one who's stupid, Kammie! Enny already touched. Madra, short, slim like a broken lampstand, cat-crying to pink Kammie who is like a fat white kitty herself.  
  
You did? says Kammie, and looks at me. You're too young for that, you couldn't have, what did you do?  
  
I don't remember what I did, I want to say, memories are fluffy cotton and tug apart when you hold them; I remember I was wet and warm, I needed to reach. Red-cap girl ahead by a stroke. Need to reach, need to reach, need to reach the concrete on the other side. Explosion. Rough gray on my fingers, and red-cap is under, and they are jumping in, up she comes, sputtering, and there is a gold circle on my chest but they take it away, No! it's my medal! I say, and I learn that I am a cheater and it wasn't my fault but Tallita Allbro nearly drowned and I cry and it is not my fault and it is not my fault and I am sad and scared and my stomach hurts and next day I am sick.  
  
Something bad, says Kammie Nindar, I can tell.  
  
No, I want to say, It wasn't me I didn't mean to do it oh Kammie, Kammie, I didn't mean to do it! and I am about to say so but Kammie and Madra aren't looking at me anymore. They are looking at a handsome boy across the hall who is brown-haired but a golden lion and he is talking to Mierin.  
  
  
  
5  
Me Leaving School After History Class  
  
  
There are a billion and four things to learn about that don't even have to do with saidar and I need to know them ifirst/i. History is the worst because Yamene Sedai makes us learn all the dates of everything that ever happened ever, and then wraps up the influence of kings and Tamyrlins and cities into a little ball and throws them at your head where it explodes like a smelly dandelion in your brain. And nothing that happened back then matters anyway, I say to Sumid Baknes, who sits next to me and smells like water. It's over and done with, why do we have to learn about... what's that word? You know, the one with the 'w'?  
  
War? says Sumid like plastic.  
  
Yeah, that's it. Who cares? It's not like it matters at all or anything.  
  
Have you paid any attention at all to any of my classes, Ilyena Dalisar? Yamene Sedai says like iron with a white beard. He is behind me and my spine leaps.  
  
Yes Aes Sedai! I say quickly and Sumid trots away just as fast.  
  
Well then. Tell me why what you just said is wrong.  
  
Because...  
  
My eyes dart around the room and they come to rest upon a poster Yamene Sedai keeps by his desk.  
  
The Wheel of Time!  
  
What about it? he says like wrinkled paper.  
  
My eyes squint. The Wheel of Time turns and ages come and go  
  
.. he looks at me like sand..  
  
leaving memories that fade to legend  
  
.. he looks at me..  
  
legend fades to myth  
  
.. he looks..  
  
and even myth is long forgotten when the Age that gave it birth comes again.  
  
Very good. Now I suggest you actually think about hwat you just said as well as being able to read it off the wall. Then I think you'll understand.  
  
Then he turns and is about to say something to me...  
  
But he thinks better of it, and so do I, and walks away, and so do I, but in opposite directions.  
  
  
  
6  
Lillen Speaks  
  
  
I had a dream about you, she says, and I dread it because Lillen never has happy dreams. They are always sad like a torn spiderweb, and scary.  
  
But when Lillen says she has a dream, she tells you what it is, no stopping her.  
  
The glass sunset has faded, last rays of light twinkling redly through the top of my window, shadows on the floor. I don't like it when the sun goes down. Lillen does.  
  
She says she dreamt of me floating in the water. Me lighting a flashlight beneath my covers at nighttime. Me flying into the sun, and it swallows me like a crumb on its orange lip.  
  
But what does it mean, Lillen? I say. The dreams Lillen says matter don't really, do they? Not when they make so little sense!  
  
I don't know, say Lillen's eyes. I dreamt of a dragon too, says her mouth.  
  
Then it is gone. Lillen is quiet. How long, how long, until she speaks or dreams again...  
  
  
  
7  
A Yellow Kind of Blue  
  
  
I like Mierin and Lillen and Sumid and Madra and Kammie Nindar, but they aren't my friends. I am a yellow blanket, cold but warming, sad and grinning, not feeling empty until ther is no one beneath me but lukewarm air. Then I cry.  
  
I don't dram of saidar, really. I sit through my lessons, am blank with my chores, am quiet because I don't want Mierin or Madra or Kammie or anyone to hear me.  
  
I watch as someone else's tears fill my eyes, smudge unformed words on paper, blue words. And Lillen is silent of course.  
  
I don't dream like Lillen does. When I go to sleep it is nothing. I don't wonder about what great golden things will happen with my head on the pillow, eyes shut tight against tears that taste like home.  
  
I am yellow Enny.  
  
Pale,  
  
Sad,  
  
Plain,  
  
And homely like a little ragged blanket clutched tightly to a blue, blue girl.  



End file.
